


A Favor for Mary

by the_kings_dastard



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Author is comma crazy, Babysitter Castiel (Supernatural), Brat Dean Winchester, Brief Castiel/Others - Freeform, Castiel Has a Large Penis (Supernatural), Castiel and John are friends, Castiel is Older Than Dean Winchester, Castiel is pervy, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Denial, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Don't Like Don't Read, Everyone Is Alive, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Underage Dean Winchester, I don't know what I'm doing, I'm Going to Hell, I've never been to church, Innocent Dean Winchester, John and Mary trust Dean, Kid Dean Winchester, Lace Panties, Lactation Kink, Lets all pray, M/M, My First Fanfic, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Obsessive Behavior, POV Alternating, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Mary Winchester, Size Difference, Size Kink, Socially Awkward Castiel (Supernatural), Some Plot, Sorry if that spoils anything, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Unrequited Love, Voyeur Castiel (Supernatural), What Have I Done, Widow Castiel, Yikes, You Have Been Warned, a lot of kink okay?, also, church, like a lot, oh god no, until its not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29817624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_kings_dastard/pseuds/the_kings_dastard
Summary: Mary has searched high and, admittedly, very low, for a decent babysitter to watch her sweet, eight year old Dean. She doesn't understand why each potential sitter practically moves mountains to escape her beautiful home! When all hope has seemed to run away (with the babysitters), someone new moves into their small, shared cul de sac. Could this polite stranger possibly be the answer to all her problems?or the one where Cas is most likely going to jail.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 19





	1. Lebanon

**Author's Note:**

> Look, if you don't like it, don't read it. Its as simple as that. For those of you left, please look at the tags! I've tried not to go spoil heavy but.. aah, I didn't want to undertag and have nobody read this. I'm not all that good with timed updates, so, please be patient with me? I'm also not sure if I'm gonna wind up leaving this as a one shot or not. Thank you for reading this rather vague author's note! Any suggestions of where I should take the story is more than welcome (:

Ah, Kansas. Green hills and endless sunny skies. Happy families with almost ‘ ‘too’ large smiles on their faces. The faint scent of contentment dancing in the morning breeze. She would’ve loved it here. Castiel hasn’t felt this put together since Daph.. That thought trailed and stretched through his mind, taunting his shaky sense of ‘equilibrium’ since her death. 

Not again. Shit.

White knuckling the leather steering wheel, he revved his Continental’s engine and pulled into the cheery neighborhood of Lebanon, Kansas. White picket fences and healthy green lawns lined his peripheral as he carefully coasted through the streets. He knew where he was going, he’d been here before. Castiel swept his narrowed gaze through the blistering summer’s heat searching for the modest bungalow he’d scouted months prior. 

After what seemed like years but in actuality was most likely a few torturous minutes, Castiel was easing into the cul de sac entrance. Vibrant, well built houses stood proudly beside each other, as if debating whether his presence within their walls was a time of celebration or mourning.

1835, 1836, 1837, ah, there it is. Squinting at the four digits he’d be attached to for the next few years or so, Castiel made a mental note to fix the wooden paneling around the alleged address, ‘1838’. The four numbers stared back at him from the old metal paneling beside the front door. What did this new home mean to him? Was this his new ‘beginning’? Did he want whatever that entailed? Daphne would be ashamed of his petulant behavior leading to the major decision of moving from Pontiac. And why here of all places? Why not Utah or, hell, California? Might as well dive from a loving husband to whatever the hell someone would become living in California. 

A loud honk startled Castiel out of his reverie and his gaze slid to his rear view mirror, eyeing a slick 2015 chevy cruze impatiently fuming behind him. Great, I’m starting out fantastic with my neighbors. Signing his apologies outside of his driver side window, Castiel pulled into the gravel driveway of ‘his’ property. Roughly pulling his key out of the ignition, he sat there, motionless. Eyelids heavy and forehead creased, Castiel felt much older than his 28 years. 

Things were going to be different. He did not travel approximately nine hours to scurry right on back to Illinois with his proverbial tail in between his legs. A deep breath ravaged Castiel’s lungs, pulling motivation from within his bone marrow to get out of the car. Suddenly, a feeling of weary confidence overtook his self doubt and before he could fully comprehend his actions, his large hand was wrapped around the car door handle and he sprung himself into the unmistakable Kansas sun.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Breathe, Novak. With nimble fingers, Castiel plucked his narrow framed glasses from the safety of his gray cardigan’s right chest pocket and propped them on his nose. Whoa, he’d almost forgotten how scenic this neighborhood was when he’d visited the property in winter. Tall houses stood beside Castiel’s. To the right of his, a wooden colonial house with vibrant white shingles and a beautiful vegetable garden. Blinking in surprise, he jotted down a mental note to ask what that neighbor grows specifically. Afterall, he's always been interested in growing squash. Daphne didn’t appreciate gardens, as they lived in an apartment before.. Sigh.

Mood successfully ruined, Castiel turned to the house left of his. Auburn bricks lined with old cement and quite larger than both his bungalow and the other houses in the neighborhood. No garden, no outside patio furniture, nothing. Did anyone live here? Leaning against his golden Continental, Castiel furrowed his eyebrows together and immediately noticed the cruze parked in the matching gravel driveway of the brick house. 

Huh. So that's who lives there.

As if prompted by his understanding, a short woman emerged from the car with a grocery bag. Messy blonde hair roughly tamed into a defiant bun hid her specific facial features other than her rather round face and jutted jaw. A slender woman burst from out of the old brick house and met the short woman half way up the outside staircase with a sloppy kiss and skinny arms wrapped around her waist. 

“Missed you, babe. Get my smokes?”,murmured the slender woman into the short woman’s lips. 

“And face your bitchy attitude? Hell yeah, Rubes. I got it.” sassed the shorter woman as she sneaked inappropriate gropes and grabs on, who Castiel assumed, was her significant other. 

Castiel blinked and realized he’d been staring at their entire interaction. Heat rose onto his face as he coughed and attracted both of their attention. 

“Er, uh, hello. I didn’t mean to interrupt- I’m your new neighbor. It's ah- it's nice to meet you.” stuttered Castiel, suddenly aware of how awkward this meeting truly was. A nervous smile stretched over his chapped lips as he fiddled with his glasses. Leave it up to him to meet the two people he’d be living beside for god knows how long in such a manner. Instead of seeming embarrassed though, the couple shocked him.

Laughter. Castiel’s eyes widened a flash of hurt burst in his chest as he heard their simultaneous giggles at his greeting. Really? Was his appearance not ‘genuine’? Or perhaps he seemed insincere with his hello. A furrowed brow and pursed lips were met with their laughter and the shorter woman seemed to have noticed his expression and quickly sobered up. 

“Well, well. Aren’t you the cutest thing.” chuckled the shorter one, with a slim arm wrapped around ‘Rubes’ waist. “‘m Meg. This is Rubes. You wouldn’t be the first man to stare at us getting dirty, don’t feel special.”

Ruby’s laughter started up again, a lascivious tone to it this time. She whispered, “Get your cute ass in the house before I take you right here.” while nipping at Meg’s ear. Before Castiel could think of anything other than harmonious chuckling and groping and whatever the fuck a ‘rubes’ was, both women scurried into the brick house, tearing at eachothers’ clothing. 

Eyebrows raised in surprise, Castiel shook his head with a chuckle and noticed an older man watching him from the house beside Ruby’s and Meg’s. From this far, he could only make out the man’s receding hairline and lean build. Slowly waving at the man was, somehow unsurprisingly, met with a flirty grin and blow of a kiss. 

This was certainly going to be interesting.

X

Whoever created Home Depot boxes, or better yet, the concept of moving boxes at all, should receive a swift kick to the testicles. Arms sore and biceps painfully achy, Castiel mumbles curses underneath his breath while hauling in the last few of his belongings that managed to fit in his shallow trunk. Instead of bothering with the burden of a second vehicle to bring all of his shit, he’d decided on the frugal, and frankly, lazy route. 

That, and the idea of bringing anything mutually owned between him and Daphne stung something mighty. 

Teeth digging ruthlessly into his dry bottom lip, Castiel dumped the last god forsaken box onto the porch before doubling over and gasping for breath. Fuck, Kansas sun doesn’t give a shit. Unceremoniously ripping his cardigan off of his lean shoulders could only do so much, and he really wasn’t looking for ‘unwanted’ attention by taking his shirt off. 

As if anyone would be interested. He guffawed at his own stupidity.

“This lady yours?” asked a deep voice from behind Castiel’s sweaty back. Fucking hell, neighbors seemed to be raining from the sky! For a split second, Castiel fantasized and tossed around the idea of simply exclaiming ‘NO!’ and rushing into the door, but with a withering sigh, he spun around. He would indulge in his introvert tendencies later on.

His eyes met with curious dark browns. “Yeah. The Continental is mine.” admitted Castiel. “She is a bit of work, but I enjoy working on her.”

A grin stretched across his tanned face. “Ya don’t say! Hol’ on, lemme guess. Mm, 1979? No, hm..” Large fingers stroked his beard covered chin, as if convincing himself of something. “1977?”

“1978.” Castiel spoke easily, talking of the car he has owned since college being a relaxing topic to converse about. Swinging his sweat soaked cardigan over one of the beaten up boxes and crossing his arms, Castiel leaned against his front door, getting comfortable for a long chat. “I own myself a ‘67 chevy impala. Lemme just tell ya, she is a beaut! Never heard a growl like hers, I guarantee you.”

“No way, I’d love to see it.” as much as he truly wanted to collapse on his soft, comfortable, memory foam mattress, Castiel also wanted to at least befriend one neighbor. It seemed as though each and every one of these houses held a completely different personality. How exhausting. The tanned man with dark, windswept hair offered his hand in a friendly gesture. 

“John Winchester. ‘M right next to this yellow eyesore of a house. Haha!” John bellowed a deep laugh, the hand not shaking Castiel’s placed on his slightly protruding gut. 

Ouch. Castiel realizes that the house he, quite honestly, ‘splurged’ on was anything but attractive but John’s reaction was a bit much. A small bout of annoyance wiggled underneath Castiel’s otherwise polite smile. “Castiel Novak. Owner of the yellow eyesore.” 

John patted Castiel’s shoulder and his laughing tapered off with a content sigh. “You’re not all that bad, Novak. Say, if you’re interested in some badass steak and apple pie, you could come over for supper? You, and-” John looked into the open oak front door of the ‘yellow eyesore’, “The missus?”

At the implication of Daphne, Castiel instinctively held up his left hand where his ring would normally sit patiently. A lump seemed to build in his throat and he couldn’t feel his fingers or toes. When will this get any easier?

“Uh, yeah, no.” He cleared his throat and had to remind himself to breathe, “She's dead.”

Thick eyebrows raised as if lightning had struck Castiel. “Oh! I’m sorry, man. Really. For your loss.” John almost looked..embarrassed? Castiel had received mixed reactions from this confession ( anger, disappointment, pity ) before but this was definitely new. “Just..uh, don’t worry ‘bout it. We can take her out-” John quickly gestured to his Lincoln Continental without looking up from his loafers, “another time. You can meet Mary too! My wife. And my kid. Uh, I’ll see you later.” 

And with that, John Winchester in all of his..awkward glory, was off of his lawn and heading towards the Colonial house to his right.

Weird Neighbors.

X

It's been a week and Castiel still hasn’t gotten through the thick brush of boxes littered seemingly everywhere. The bathroom, there's boxes. The living room, boxes. The fucking attic? Boxes. When has he even gone to the attic? What the hell! And he thought Daphne was the hoarder.

A throbbing exhaustion passed over Castiel at the passing thought of his beautiful, deceased wife. Sigh. Perhaps it’d be good to get out of this house. 

Trudging through the thick masses of boxes has definitely become one of his hidden talents in the last week. Hey, maybe this extra calf work will come in handy? Just a little further, to the clothing boxes. He couldn’t go out in his bee patterned sleep pants, as much as it aches him to take them off. Picking a decent pair of tan chinos and a navy blue turtleneck, Castiel eyed himself in a nearby mirror that he’d managed to unpack.

  
  


Running his palms through the thick, unruly strands of his hair was the only real chance he had in taming it. It had proved to be a strong opponent against all hair product options he’d looked into. As predicted, his hair sprung back to its’ usual bed head state. Castiel’s heavy groan of frustration echoed through the home and reminded him just how alone he truly was. 

Slipping on black crew cut socks and his rather new wingtip oxfords, Castiel felt like a new man. One last check in the mirror proved that he was worthy of simply walking outside. He grabbed the doorknob and quickly raced through the list of what possibilities Kansas could offer him on this beautiful Saturday evening. A wide smile slipped across his face as he thought of it- when was the last time he’d gotten laid? 

Opening the door ruined that thought completely.

Two people stood outside of his door. The older man with a deep v-neck and, admittedly, charming smile, stood closer to the door frame while a darker woman stood behind him, looking annoyed. 

“Uh, May I hel-”

The older man leaned close as his eyes hungrily absorbed Castiel’s recently put-on outfit. “Yes you may.” he purred in a soft french accent.

“Balthazar! Not the new boy. No, you’ve driven one too many neighbors from our little cul de sac and I refuse to watch Castiel go too!” the older woman huffed and gently pushed the lean man to the side, into Castiel’s bushes.

How’d she know his name?

“Hello there, sweetheart. My name is Missouri Mosely! The local psychic. I read auras, don’t you worry. I’m no witch.” gently laughed Missouri. Something about her felt..right. Castiel couldn't explain it, he found himself at a loss for words. He usually found himself quite speechless this last week, actually.

“Yes.. well, uhm, how may I help you?” inquired Castiel. 

She smiled softly and lifted up the glass baking dish filled with, holy shit what was that? He sniffed and yep. Apple Crumble. Castiel’s previous going out plans suddenly consisted of nothing more than sitting on the mob of boxes he had and chowing down on apple fritter. Gooey, sticky, cinnamon goodness dripping off a fork into his mouth? Getting laid could wait.

Frenchie- uh, ‘Balthazar’ straightened his shirt and scoffed. “I simply came over to say hello! I did not drive out the last tenant!” Castiel didn’t even know this guy and yet he already knew that was bullshit. He surprised himself with a loud bark of laughter at Balthazar’s antics. Both Missouri and Balthazar smiled, although his grin was more prideful and hers’ a tad more fond. 

“Say, there's a barbeque taking place in the Winchesters’ backyard next week. You should see it, it's huge! You should come on over. Mary usually does the inviting but she's been unbelievably busy with trying to find a babysitter for her little scamp, Dean, so I can see why she must’ve forgotten about the new invite” Missouri suggested, eyes batting her soft, curled lashes. 

“I’d hate to impose-”

“Oh, darling! You truly wouldn’t be!” hollered Balthazar. He was very loud. Castiel dimly noticed how close the French man leaned closer by the second. He stunk of some foreign, most likely French, cologne and a spicy body spray. He felt as though he had to sneeze. He doesn’t smell as sweet as Daphne did. Nobody did.

Feeling the familiar slippery slope of his mood, Castiel decided he was going to take the ‘bull by the horns’ and make himself forget of his emotional pains. Make himself forget Daphne Allen and her gorgeous wavy auburn hair. Make himself forget of her ash blue eyes and plump peached lips. Make himself forget of her curved hips and thin eyebrows and harmonious laugh and small ears and loving gaze and-

“Castiel?” asked a concerned Missouri.

“Yes. I’ll check in with John. I’ll go.” agreed Castiel. Hopefully, this event, this neighborhood, this town, will help. If not.. He isn’t sure he can live with memories of who he used to be. 

X

Whoever said food is no good the day after was severely incorrect. Castiel whole-heartedly agreed with himself as he casually snacked on Missouri’s apple fritter, warmed to utter perfection. Oh, sweet confection gods, have I ascended to heaven?

The warm, sugary caramelized apple blend was almost too much for Castiel’s taste buds. Is this..a food orgasm? Mind preoccupied with the pleasurable rollercoaster of apple fritter, Castiel almost missed the loud thud in his backyard. Now, Castiel isn’t stupid. He may be making out with a sweet baked good, and he may have chosen said baked good over actual human contact, but he is no idiot. 

Castiel knows nothing is supposed to be back there. Not yet, anyway.

He planned on planting a few fruit trees. After trying this fritter? Definitely an apple tree. He shook his head of the miscellaneous thoughts and stood up, diligent and determined. Whatever was snooping around his backyard at-

He checked his chrome watch. 9:45 AM. 

Right, whatever was snooping around his backyard this early really couldn’t have good intentions. Setting down the sugary good gently like a treasured lover, Castiel made his way over to his back door. What he saw was interesting.

A young boy, couldn’t be older than eight, sat in a disheveled brown suit tailored to his small body. Small twigs tangled in his short honey blonde hair and smears of dirt, well, what Castiel hoped was dirt, covered the boys’ soft creamy cheeks. Sun kissed freckles dotted the bridge of his buttoned nose and the curved apples of his pink cheeks. The young boy pressed his back against the wooden fence parting the Winchesters’ home and his, as John stated it, “yellow eyesore”.

Yes, Castiel was still rather upset about that comment.

The boy seemed out of breath, skin tinged with delicate hints of magenta from obvious exertion. What was the boy running from, though? Before Castiel could figure that out, moss green eyes met his own blue. Panic swirled beneath the alluring shade of emerald, shattering what at first glance Castiel would’ve assumed was a brave face.

Castiel did not hesitate. He rushed back into his kitchen area, opened his modest fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. Briefly considering whether or not children still ‘drank’ water, he decided on pouring flavored kool-aid dust into the water and giving it a good shake. Just as fast, he peeked outside his backyard window to see the young boy’s big, luminescent eyes darting around like a spooked animal. 

Oh, little fawn, do not be afraid.

Castiel stepped out of his home (widely considered a yellow eyesore, thank you, john.), and approached the boy. He really shouldn’t have been surprised at all to notice that the boy is damn near a figment of his wildest dreams. Long, dirty blonde eyelashes frame those doll-like jewels, and his skin looks as soft as silk. No, softer. In comparison, silk appears as rough and unruly as thick mud. Swallowing over nothing, or more likely, his own trepidation, Castiel handed the red bottle to the boy. 

Mistrust stained the purity of his beauty, and Castiel almost raged at the sight of it. Although, he rationalized that if a strange man in bee patterned pajamas offered him an unknown red substance, he’d be quite a bit skeptical as well. 

A hoarse chuckle escaped his sleep-laden throat. “Here. It's not going to hurt you. Figured you’d be thirsty from all that running.” He could feel the very corners of his lips twitch in the beginnings of a smile as the boy eagerly drank down the kool-aid, a ring of red lining those plump, decadent lips.

Glossy sage eyes looked up, grateful. “Thank-”

“DEAN WINCHESTER!” hollered an angry voice that could put the fear of god in anyone, even Castiel, a nonbeliever. The boy, Dean, Castiel assumes, winced and those eyes, oh fuck, how they lingered with intent on Castiel’s blues. As if promising something.

“See ya.” were the last two words Dean Winchester said to him, and they left his mind reeling for hours afterwards.


	2. Churches and Sinning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kudos, guys! It means the world to me, really. This chapter is waaaay longer at 11-12k words. I've decided on updating this fic on Wednesdays. I'm still getting used to deadlines 'n all so my bad if this is a lil late.
> 
> I just wanted to warn yall that John uses the F slur in the beginning of the chapter, and their is a graphic sex scene between Cas and someone else who isn't Dean. (Not gonna tell who (; ) 
> 
> Also, I didn't put it in the tags because its kind of 'background' information, but there are a few Dean/Lisa moments. Of course, don't worry about it long term, because I'm all about endgame destiel. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading this lil note and enjoy!

Mary Winchester is no control freak. 

As controversial as that topic may be between her and her husband, John, it's the truth. Could she be a tad bit demanding at the family picnics and get togethers? Sure! But, who wouldn’t be, when stupid April Kelly stole the spotlight wherever her trampy ass went? Who could possibly blame her for stepping (painfully) on a few toes?

Her current situation demanded such behavior, after all. Attempting to dress your eight year-old son is nothing to laugh at. Anyone with children could sympathize.

No, Mary is just like every other woman on her block. An honest, homebound woman with an adventurous son and a casserole in the oven.

Oh, but imagine how easy life would be if her beloved Dean was a girl? 

Frilly, ruffled dresses and flustered conversations of boys floats uninvited into Mary’s mind. A small smile lifted her gloss covered lips. She could’ve named her ‘Deana’ and have kept her skin moisturized. Perhaps an easy-bake oven and beautiful, bouncy bows would be in order as well. John practically raised Dean, forcing the ‘macho’ act on her sweet boy.

Dean wasn’t ‘always’ a runner. In fact, in his ‘toddler years’, he rather enjoyed dressing up and playing with ‘mommy’s face colors’. Of course, when John Winchester saw little Dee in pink lipstick and mascara, he immediately snipped that in the bud. 

Subtle frustration bubbled underneath Mary’s peachy skin, thinking of what could’ve been, if perhaps John weren’t so closed minded. But no, not in his cul de sac, not in his family. Mary briefly glanced up at the blotchy morning sky, littered and clogged with rain heavy clouds. 

How fitting.

Mary isn’t upset that she did not have a ‘gay’ son, she loved Dean just as he was, but it certainly did press her buttons that he most likely wouldn’t reach his full potential with the ever pressing weight of being the “masculine” son. She knew all too well how it felt to be forced into a mold by your stubborn parents. 

Bunching up the calm beige of her dress into her fists, Mary jogged at a moderate pace, eyeing the backyards of houses neighboring her’s. Her son enjoyed hide and seek as much as any other child, but he took it a little ‘too’ far, trespassing onto properties the Winchesters didn’t own. A rising panic began to settle at the base of her lower abdomen as Mary’s mind took her back to one Ellen Harvelle scolding six year old Dean after trampling over her delicate peace lilies. The Harvelles, as familiar she is with them, could be a terrifying force when upset. 

Out of breath and terribly wrinkling her Sunday service dress, Mary took a temporary break from scouting out her little Dee. Who knew eight years old was the ‘running’ age?

Combing thin fingers through the long blonde locks that were previously tied into a tight side braid, Mary sucked in a shallow breath, gathering her patience. This is a yoga technique she’d picked up while out with little Lisa Braden’s mother, Cindy. 

She and Cindy go back decades. Mary refuses to acknowledge how _many_ decades (a woman’s age is always a secret!) they go back but it's just enough to solidify a relationship for life.

They’d both had a gigantic crush on the most popular boy at Lebanon High, John Winchester. One would assume that would equate to a negative relationship between the two, but it’d been like magic! Cindy, with her tanned skin, sharp hips, and low hanging jeans had been the complete opposite to Mary’s dulled apricot skin, smooth curves, and bell bottoms. 

Perhaps opposites attract, afterall?

At the thought of her closest girlfriend, Mary smiled faintly. Cindy would know how to effectively handle Dean’s energetic nature. She owns the local yoga center and makes a pretty penny from the PTA alone. You’d be surprised how stressed mothers could be. What with how troublesome children can be: Dean, specifically. 

Oh, how her sweet boy loved to run and jump around, especially at the worst moments possible.

She shook her head slowly and silently pondered on the state of the mocha brown suit she’d recently had made for him and him alone. What if he’d gotten it dirty? What if we’re late for Sunday’s church? Surely the PTA would know of it immediately and begin questioning her commitment to god, and if Mary couldn’t make time for god, how could she make time for their lovely sons and daughters? She always knew that backstabbing bitch April Kelly would practically hop at the idea of stubbing Mary from her role as vice president in the PTA.

A distant nasal voice pierced through Mary’s flowing internal commentary, much too familiar for comfort. “Mary, you’re _still_ here? I guess we can’t all be punctual, mm?” A sickly sweet tone clung greedily to her judging words. “Scoot, scoot, bells. Time is moneyyy!” 

Glaring down the cul de sac, Mary burned metaphorical (sadly) holes into April Kelly and Cole Trenton’s backs as they easily guided little Bella into their 2019 Buick Enclave. 

April’s ginger hair, sloppily tied into some intricate knot, eerily looked like roadkill. 

Mary wouldn’t be surprised if it was.

Perhaps that was taking it a tad too far. Mary softly giggled to herself and grinned wide at April’s hidden sneer. Oh, how I hope her too-pale face stays that way. Raising a hand and gently waving it towards her, Mary truly was the paradigm of passive aggressiveness. 

That didn’t particularly mean that Kelly’s words hadn’t prodded and poked at Mary’s nerves, though. Of course, tardiness had ‘Winchester’ scribbled all over it. She knew she was being dramatic and what John would call a “psycho bitch”, but she refused to let her family name be tarnished over her son being curious. 

Sucking in a greedy breath, Mary squeezed her eyes shut and yelled with all of the brewing anger at her very core. A severe, “DEAN WINCHESTER!” erupted out of her slender throat. 

She knew it’d be sore later. Perks of aging.

Just then, as if on cue, a small rustle in the bushes behind her earned a raised brow. A rat? Here, of all places? I thought Will Harvelle was an exterminator? She’d have to talk with Ellen about this immediately! She couldn’t have huge, disgusting, disease-infested rats roaming around when her lovely son was playing in the exact same greenery. What kind of mother would that make her? What kind of son would she raise? What of her unborn baby?

Wrapping a protective arm around her ordinary sized baby bump, Mary was determined to take care of the rodent infestation herself. Little Sammy wouldn’t be born into a world where rabies was mercilessly killing off small cul de sacs. 

Mary spun around and lifted her heeled foot, ready to stomp if said rodent were to become confident. 

Having forgotten her earlier vexation, the sight of little Dean cowered in the bushes left her speechless.

Mouth stained with red dye and debris tangled in his previously neat gel-spiked hair, the sight of her only child in such disarray nearly sent Mary into cardiac arrest. 

Eyes rolling up towards the sky, as if asking god himself, ‘why me?’, Mary sighed heavily and firmly gripped Dean’s thin elbow. The brown material of his slacks snagged on a sharp bush thorn, causing a startled whimper to rip out of his mouth. 

“You listen to me, young man. I may not be as strict as your father but I will not tolerate your making us late on god’s day! Inside, I’ve got to get a good look at you and wash that red mess off of your face. What is that?” Mary grumbled while dragging her son away towards the house.

“I-I’m sorry, ma. It was an accident, swear. I love god ‘n all, is just..boring sometimes. The guy with the weird glasses gave me a kool-aid, I like it.”

“Dean, you know what I say about sugar. It gets you all out of sorts.” huffed Mary, straightening and pulling at his suit, trying to neat the attached pieces. Even as messy as Dean looked, he still was very handsome for such a young age. A small smile softened her stoney expression. 

“I know, ma, but he gave it to me. He was real nice n’-”

“And nothing! I want you to apologize for sneaking onto his property. Later on, of course. God comes first. Where is your father?”

Heavy footsteps slowly clambered down the stairs, one John Winchester steadily making his way down whilst tying his black tie into a windsor knot. “Psycho bitching again, Mary?”

“Not in front of Dean, John. Watch your language.” 

“The boy knows not to say shit, right, boy?” hummed John, dark eyes sliding over towards his son like thick ink.

Mary felt a burning rise of irritation manually pull the air from her lungs. John’s headstrong attitude certainly wasn’t one for the weak of heart, thought Mary. 

Proficiently wetting a hand towel with cold water, she gently scrubbed at Dean’s stained chin and suit lapels. His nervous waddling from side to side certainly did not help in her attempts. “What's the matter, sweet heart? I know your father is a handful, but there's no need to be scared.” whispered Mary.

“N-not scared, just gotta.. gotta, pee, ma.” replied her son.

A silent smile spread over her face and she let go of his small frame. _My sweet boy._ “Go on. We leave in six.”

Dashing upstairs and away from Mary, Dean ran to the restroom with six minutes to spare.

X

He hates when he has to go potty right before church. Usually Dean can hold it until they’re sitting down, so he can use it as an excuse to get out of reverend Jim’s boring ramblings but he couldn’t hold it no more!

Stumbling clumsily into the ocean themed bathroom, Dean slammed the toilet seat down and sat on the cold porcelain of the seat. A shiver climbed up his spine, wringing his nerves dry. His small wee hung into the toilet bowl and he slowly let go of the tight vice he held around his bladder. 

A relaxing wave of _free_ and _good_ crashed into his nervous system, making Dean a little dizzy. He held it so long this time and that weird guy really didn’t help with that kool-aid! 

Mind distracted with the temporary bliss of an empty bladder, he thought back to the really tall, weird guy’s face. Dean was always told not to talk to strangers but he couldn’t be all that bad if he looked like action heroes, right? A slow grin stretched over his small face, dimpling his cheeks. He had cool, big muscles like iron man and a big neck like Captain america! Dean really liked super heroes. Dean wanted to be a superhero when he grew up. 

Lisa thought that was stupid. 

Lisa is his girlfriend in Sunday school and normal school. Grabbing the flower scented wipes instead of the tissue (he likes how it feels!), Dean carefully wiped his wee and its’ best buddies right next to it. 

Lisa always called Dean names but she was really pretty so it was ok. She knew how to say big words like ‘general’ and ‘foreign’. The whole class looks up to her and she looks down on everyone. But not on Dean. 

Maybe.

Pulling his batman underwear and the bad pants up his legs, he stepped on his short stool to wash his hands. Extra soap! Dean likes this soap. It smells like ma and ma smells good. He flushed the toilet and ran out the bathroom. 

“‘M comin’ ma!” called out Dean while making his way down the carpet clad stairs. He didn’t like this carpet, he fell on it once.

They moved into this really big house a long time ago because ma wanted another kid. Dean doesn’t like having another kid around because he doesn’t want ma to like anyone else more than him. Pa doesn’t get it and ma doesn’t get it. 

Does weird, super hero guy get it?

Does he have little kids who come into his house and make him feel not loved anymore? Do superheroes have brothers and sisters? Is that weird? Would his brothers and sisters be weird too? Do they wear weird bee pants too? 

But Dean really liked those pants. They were really cool. 

Pa wouldn’t like those pants. So, should Dean not like them? So what if they had different likes n’ stuff? Lisa said its sometimes not ok to have different likes, when Dean doesn’t like her hair and her skirt, like that. But sometimes it's ok like when Dean likes apples and Lisa likes apples. But is that the same thing?

He doesn’t wanna think about it.

Patting down his pockets, Dean feels for the five bucks he brings everywhere, the lone house key he has for the back door, and his favorite Gunner Lawless keychain. 

Lisa also thought wrestling was stupid. Lisa was always getting compliments for how ‘mature’ she was, whatever that meant. Shaking his head, ridding himself of his thoughts, he walked across the heavily watered lawn over to Baby. Baby, who glowed in the sun like a really shiny rock. Dean likes shiny things, like money and the wrestling champion belt Gunner Lawless wears. He likes it because Dean is a champion too. 

Lisa thinks it's for little babies.

Hopping into the leather backseat, warmed by the sun, he closed the door and nodded to his ma and pa. “All done.”

As pa started the engine (he told dean how that works), dean looked out his open window and at their really big house. It didn’t feel like home sometimes. Did that make sense? Dean didn’t know but maybe superhero guy would know. Iron man and Captain America know everything so he _has_ to know everything. That's just the law! Looking up at the yellow house where the guy lived, well actually, Dean doesn’t know if he lives there, but he looked really comfy. 

Standing at the front door, stood the guy! Without a shirt, his muscles looked really big and shiny in the sunlight. A huge smile stretched taut across Dean’s cheeks. He waved outside the window and watched as the old superhero guy dipped his head down and gave him a really secret smile. Like how mommy gives him sometimes, when she is proud of Dean for getting good grades ‘n stuff. 

Is mr. superhero guy proud of Dean for drinking all the red kool-aid juice? Even when ma was mad? How could he be a bad stranger if hes happy for Dean? He must be really good. 

As the weird u-shaped format (Lisa taught him that word) of the houses blurred in the distance, he sat normally in his seat and quickly noticed his ma was looking at him through the rearview mirror. “Made a friend, baby?”

“Uhhh.. I don't know if he's my friend yet but he's really cool and he's a superhero! He wont tell me though because it's a secret and if you tell someone you'll get in a lot of trouble, ya know!!” Dean didn’t mind reminding his mom about the first rule of being a superhero, but really, ma! Who didn’t know that!

Ma laughed kinda quiet and laid one soft hand on his knee. 

“Of course, sweetie. Do you know him, John?” asked ma. 

“Uh, yeah. Novak. Castiel Novak. Been trying to get a beer with him but he hardly leaves that shitty yellow house.”

“He must just be shy, John!” ma lightly slapped pa’s arm and looked kinda appalled at pa’s bad words. Dean knows he's not s’posed to say it but if pa says' em why can’t dean?

He didn’t say this out loud.

“Let's invite him to the barbeque. Make him feel at home in our cul de sac! Don’t you want to encourage good behavior to your son?” said ma with one of ‘those’ looks that made pa always say yeah. 

“Sure. I’ll mention it.”

The car slowed down in front of the big church that Dean really didn’t like. It was very.. Inn..inttimm..intimmidatiinn? Lisa would know the right word to use. He reluctantly stepped out of Baby and into the warm sun. Dean really loves summer (its the best time to swim, duh), but this suit makes him feel stuffy and closed up. He can’t wait for lunch time so he can get out of here and talk to his new cool friend.

What if he can fly? Or do laser eyes? What if he winds up being the bad guy?

Dean always kinda liked the villains, even if they did a lot of bad guy stuff. Did that make Dean bad? He’ll ask Lisa.

The church smelled like old ladies and Home Depot dirt. Dean thought back to when he told pa that and he laughed so loud, reverend Jim made bad eyes at him. Ma got very mad with pa that day. They passed Bella and Garth and Charlie and Jo. Jo Harvelle was his new babysitter who really couldn’t take a hint.

Dean wasn’t a _baby._ Dean wipes his own butt and puts his own clothes on (even if they aren’t always on right) and he does his own hair sometimes. He’ll drive Jo off just like the others. Jo wasn’t ugly or anything, not really. She has really pretty blonde hair that curled around her thin face. Really brown eyes like worms and small legs. Lisa told Dean that Jo wasn’t pretty and that they had to agree on that or else she was gonna leave him for Nick. Everyone calls him Lucifer though. 

Literally everyone! Even Garth, and Garth is really nice and would never get in big fights like Dean. Lisa doesn’t like Nick that much but she does think he's cute and that makes Dean’s stomach do bad flips. Nick sits at the bad table with Azazel and Alistair. They’re always in detention and getting in trouble.

Dean is bad sometimes but not as bad as them. 

Sitting next to Missouri and Patience, the Winchesters all stay quiet as they absorb God’s word.

X

Dean’s legs are sleepy after sitting for so long and they aren’t even going straight home! He has to go to whatever ‘sunday school’ even is. He's been going for like two months and he still doesn’t get it.. Dean doesn’t mind all that much though because he sits right next to Lisa in it.

He is still trying to balance himself on his sleepy legs while ma and pa talk to Missouri and Ellen in the pew in front of them. If his legs don’t wake up he might be late for god class. For some reason, Lisa really liked that class and always wore a pretty dress for it. Dean hopes it's not because Nick is in the class too. He doesn’t get why putting Nick, aka, lucifer, would be a smart idea. His nickname is literally lucifer!! 

If that's not clue enough, Dean doesn’t know what is.

“Boy, what happened to you?” asked a familiar soft voice. Missouri’s voice.

Dean really liked Missouri, she makes really yummy pies and crumbles and fritters but nothing with raisins in it. He respects that. And sometimes, when it's really cold outside, she’ll knit Dean and Patience mittens so they don’t get cold too. Dean saw Missouri give superhero guy something tasty and he really wanted to have some too. Can you blame him, though?! It looked really good and ma doesn’t let him have any sweets, ever.

Looking up into Missouri’s honey brown eyes, Dean smiled nervously. “Uh..”

“This little rascal was ‘bravely venturing’ in Castiel Novak’s bushes earlier.” commented ma, arms crossed in that way that made her look really mad, but the small smile on her face told Dean that it was secretly kinda funny.

Missouri’s rich chuckling and Patience’s soft giggles drained all of the bad feelings out of Dean and he grinned wide. “Mary, you know your little Dean is an adventurer! Believe me, Castiel will understand. I’ve met him, with balthazar in tow. He managed to resist his ‘seduction’” replied Missouri.

“‘Course he did. Novak ain’t a fag.” grumbled pa. 

The entire group got really quiet and Dean didn’t know why. He knows that that's a bad word, but he doesn’t know what it means and why it is a bad word? Maybe Lisa might know? Remembering god class, he waved his hand at ma and pa. “I’m gonna go to the place now. I can drive home with Jo and Ellen and Will.”

Dean didn’t see the murderous glare Mary was aiming directly at John.

Scurrying off to the smaller building attached to this large Church and dodging older women that wanted to pinch his cheeks, he was making a get away. Like how Indiana Jones did when the big boulder was coming to crush him and kill him. All of the perfume smelling ladies were the monsters and god class, even if Dean didn’t like it that much, was freedom. 

  
  


A broad smile extended on his face as he imagined himself in tattered clothes, running away from a gigantic boulder with something really expensive in his hands. He began walking faster, dodging people with more ‘finesse’, spinning his body and overexerting himself. 

As he neared the pale blue building with clear glass doors, Dean was sweating a little too much in his ugly brown suit.

Lisa didn’t like when Dean was dirty, so he swiped the hand..handkerr..chif? The weird soft small towel that was in his suit pocket and wiped his sweaty face.   
  


“Hurry up, idiot. Some of us aren’t perspiring buffoons.” spat a really annoying voice behind Dean.

Crap, Bella.

Spinning around on his heel, Dean blinked up at Bella. She was always really pretty, with her long brown hair and thin eyebrows, but she was also really mean. She's friends with Josie and Lilith. Honestly, he isn’t even sure if mean girls can _have_ friends. Do they just.. Sit together and be mean? He doesn’t know. Maybe Lisa knows?

She was a little taller than him but maybe that's just ‘cause shes ten and he’s eight, or maybe its ‘cause she always wears heels everywhere. He doesn’t like that. Lisa only wears flats, like a pretty girl.

Eloquently, Dean stuck his tongue out at Bella and burped in her face. 

A shocked squeal rang behind him as he pushed through the clear doors and drank in the all too intimate format of the room. Dark blue plastic chairs were sat in a circle and only some kids were here already. The god class teacher, Jessica, (she told us to call her Jessica and not ms. moore ‘cause it makes her feel kinda old) was writing something in chalk at the front board. 

Dean sat in between his best friends, Benny and Charlie. Benny has really blue eyes kinda like superhero guy but Benny’s eyes were kinda lighter. Charlie has really bright red hair and she's really skinny but that's why she always brings protein shakes and stuff to class. Carrying a really pink thermal cup in her left hand, Charlie is left handed, she turns her attention to him and almost smiles.

“You know you can’t sit here, Dean-o. Lisa will have a heart attack if she can’t sit with you.” whispers Charlie, trying not to disturb Jessica’s flow of thoughts as she writes at the board.

He looks between both Charlie and Benny and frowns. This is one of a few things that he doesn’t like about dating Lisa. He’d never tell her that to her face, but she can really be kinda..pushy. What if Dean wants to hang with his best buds? Can’t he do that? 

Benny patted his left shoulder and sighed. “Sorry, brother. She’ll be here in no time and you know how she is.” Dean likes how Benny calls him brother. Maybe when his actual brother is born out of ma’s tummy, he’ll call him brother. 

Dean stood up and looked at them both at the same time. “We can hang on Monday. The barbeque party is on Monday evening, okay? Evening is the time in between afternoon and night. I want you guys to come.”

“We know when evening is, doofus.” giggled Charlie, her red hair swaying from side to side. 

She was really really pretty but Dean only liked her as a friend. It’d be kinda weird if they got together like he is with Lisa, too. He thinks Charlie might like girls? He doesn’t know.

The clear doors shut rather loudly this time and a small brunette began walking towards Dean. “Dee? That you? What happened?” asked a concerned Lisa Braeden. 

Lisa has always been really _really_ pretty. Bella was ‘ok’ pretty, and Charlie was ‘good’ pretty, but Lisa took the cake. Wasn’t that the saying? Why couldn’t it be: ‘took the pie?’ Pie seems like something Dean would actually try to take, not cake.

Tear shaped brown eyes gazed into Dean’s almond shaped green. Lisa and Dean were kinda the same height.

“Whaddya mean?” asked Dean.

A small hand reached into his hair and carefully pulled out a small twig. “You look so.. Messy, baby.” 

Lisa liked calling him bad and nice names. Dean really liked the nice names but the bad names made him feel like she was gonna leave him for Nick. 

Speak of the devil.

A tall boy eased into the room and grinned sleazily at Lisa. Dean grabbed her hand tightly and Lisa bit her lip, smiling. “Dee, don’t be silly. Nick is just a boy.” _A boy you can’t stop staring at._ Dean smoothly guided Lisa to a pair of chairs opposite Benny and Charlie. He helped her up to her blue seat and he sat in his own. 

He turned his gaze to hers’ and caught her staring at Dean’s side profile. “Does this really bother you? Dean, don’t be such a child.” 

Dean didn't like when Lisa downplayed his feelings. Sometimes he just wanted her to accept that he felt a certain way and to stop making his heart drop to his tummy so often. He scooted his seat closer to hers, and making sure Jess was not looking, pressed a soft closed mouth kiss to her lips. 

Dean didn’t like when Lisa wore lipgloss. It reminded him of his mom and he didn’t wanna kiss his mom on the lips like that. It made Lisa’s lips sticky and therefore made his lips really gross and sticky too. He doesn’t say this to her though. He just leans in again for another kiss.

Lisa taught him how to kiss a few months ago, when he was in second grade and she was in third. Now, he's going to third and she's going to fourth. He's not really excited about having to learn times tables but maybe Lisa might help him? She won the spelling bee last year and everyone really liked her but she chose _him_ to date her. She said it was because she wanted to have a family with him.

Dean doesn’t know if he wants a family like that, but he's grown up enough to know that they’re a little too young to have kids just yet. 

He accidentally nipped at her upper lip and he could’ve sworn she was gonna snap at him like she does all the time, but she hummed happily. She liked that? Lisa’s skinny hand rested on his upper thigh and his eyebrows raised really high on his forehead! Lisa wants to do more? What is there more to do? She wants to..to..-

“Lisa! Dean!”

They ripped apart and looked up at Jess, crossing her arms. “Good boys and girls don’t do that until they’re married.” she huffed. “Do I have to notify Cindy of what you’re doing, young lady?”

Lisa’s lovely brown eyes widened almost comically. “N-No! I was.. It was an accident, Ms. Moore. I’m sorry.”

“And _you_ , Mr. Winchester.” her narrowed auburn glare practically set Dean on fire. “Would Mary appreciate knowing that her little ‘adventurer’ is being naughty in class?” 

And, as Dean knew would happen, the class erupted in laughter.

“Adventurer??”

“Brother, I didn’t know you were an.. addvenhahahhha!”

“Knew he was nothing more than an indiana jones wannabe”

“He was being weird running through church earlier!”

“And he was a sweaty ape in front of the doors this morning too!”

Even Lisa’s soft snickers could be heard amongst his classmates’ jabs at the nickname. Dean felt his face alight with embarrassment, as if set on fire. Jess’ smile softened and she ruffled his hair, the gel having dried sometime during the actual service. The class slowly quieted and Jess strode in front of the chalkboard.

“That doesn’t only go for Dean. I listen, boys and girls! I know what each and one of your parents calls you and I’m _not_ afraid to use it as ammunition against you.”

“Mhm, sure.” hummed Nick Monroe, the boy who constantly tried to steal Lisa’s gaze.

Blonde eyebrow raised in challenge, Jess stood straight and stared down at Nick. “Now, is that anyway to speak to your superiors, _Nickie-poo?_ ” 

Dean almost couldn’t breathe! Nickie-poo? Oh GOD! He doubled over in his chair and cackled loud, the entire class 3x louder than before. Lisa’s adorable snorts were muffled into Dean’s neck as she leaned into him. She always told Dean that a real woman wasn’t supposed to laugh out loud, and instead be ‘mysterious’ and ‘cunning’. He has to admit that that is what attracted him to her. Maybe she knows what she's talkin’ about? 

Nick sat slumped in his chair with his arms crossed and a pissy look dripping off his face. “Alright! Alright, children. Who can tell me what Ruth’s sister’s name was?” Jess said, a huge smile plastered on her light face.

Maybe god class wasn’t all that bad after all.

X

**“** C’mon, punk. We’ve gotta head on home.” Dean looked up from Lisa’ eyes into Jo’s impatient dark brown. 

“Aw c’mon, Jo. I’m with Lis. Can’t you just wait a lil longer?” he held up their joined hands, as if proving his point. 

“Look, slugger, if I bring you home late Mama Winchester is gonna have a conniption. Plus, it's my job to tame your lame ass. Up and at ‘em.” said a pissed Jo, crossing her arms. 

Dean really didn’t like how she talked down to him, she was only a few years older than Dean herself! Being sixteen didn’t automatically make her his boss. He didn’t have a boss, he was his own boss. She’d learn soon enough, though. Dean subtly grinned at the plan he’d hatched last night. 

As other students began filling out of the classroom, Jessica brushed the chalk off the board with an old, ratty eraser. “Now, Dean.” she hummed from her place at the front of the class. “Mrs.Winchester specifically told me that you can be rather..well, wild. I know better than to let you go crazy with Ms. Braeden.” Jess playfully smirked and waggled her finger at the both of them. “Go on. Shoo.” she turned back to the board and began clearing her jumbled desk. 

Dean felt betrayed at both his ‘babysitter’ and Sunday school teacher attacking him! Of course, they would. Any woman other than ma and Lis were out to ruin his life! Perhaps he should run away with them. Hopefully his new best friend, superhero guy, wouldn’t take his absence personally. Or maybe he’d like to come?

A pair of sticky lips pressed against his cheek. “Dee, you can go. I’ll see you tomorrow at your mother’s function. You won’t be at school on Monday, right?”

Thinking back to all the help ma would need with the hamburgers and prepping the grill while pa was at work solidified Dean’s resolve. “Yeah, sorry. Try not to flirt with Nickie-poo, okay? Bella told me-”

“Blah, blah, blah.” Lisa whispered softly, against his neck. Glaring up at Jo’s amused expression, he stood up and walked away with her. “Y’know, Ima remember that.” mumbled Dean. “Oh yeah, pipsqueak? Whatcha gonna do, throw your batman panties at me?” sniggered Jo, smacking the back of his head as they walked to her small car. 

Dean doesn’t know all that much about cars but..is this even a car? It looked like shit on wheels. If this could run, he’d be surprised. It was a deep, cold gray and curved in all the wrong ways. Maybe it was ‘cause all he knew was the boxy angles of Baby. Where had ma and pa gone anyway? It's not that he didn’t ‘like’ Jo, (okay maybe it is that) but he wanted to spend more time with ma. 

Ma is always doing something social and pa is always with his work buddies. Dean is always alone in their big, bad house. Maybe Benny and Charlie could come over sometimes after Monday? 

Sometimes he really does like being alone, like when he has all his fun shit. As Dean stepped into the passenger seat of the car and Jo stepped into the driver’s, he went through what all of that fun stuff was. His Playstation, legos, toy army men, his swing set in the backyard, and sometimes, especially when nobody’s home, Dean likes to dress up. 

The repetitive clacking of Jo’s engine interrupted Dean’s deepest secrets. Secrets that would make pa shake in anger and raise hell all by himself. He stared sightlessly out of the windshield as Jo carefully drove down the busy Kansas streets. They were always crowded after Church and ‘school’ let up. Jo always took him without mistake after church. He knew that his ma and pa always went to brunch (boring lunch?) afterwards with Mrs. Kelly and Mr. Trenton. He doesn’t know why they don’t have the same name like his parents do, but ma mentioned something about ‘independent women’. Independent was a word Lisa used once, and she said it meant to be ‘strong’ or something like that.

Lisa said Nick was very ‘independent’ and that she liked that. 

Bad feelings swirled around in his tummy and made him feel like he had to vomit. Dean doesn’t like vomiting, it makes his throat hurt and it tastes nasty. Nasty like Bella Trenton. Nasty like Lisa’s sticky lips sometimes. Nasty like it raining outside all day. 

The big U of houses came into Dean’s view and he visibly relaxed at the sight. He could see the big yellow one first, and then his house, and then Missouri’s, and Meg’s. Pa told him not to talk to Meg and Ruby because they were ‘breaking the law’ by being together but Charlie told him they were really cool. Charlie is really cool. At first, when Dean mentioned the chance of Charlie liking girls in front of pa, he got really mad and told him to stay away from her. But thats stupid!

Frustration welled in his throat and made his eyes watery. Charlie is one of his bestfriends and he only had two. Benny was fun, but Benny _and_ Charlie were the bestest together. 

Wiping at his eyes and ignoring Jo’s “Whats wrong?”, he slid to the front of the chair and stared at the yellow house. Inside the wide windows, Dean could see superhero guy moving around, but he couldn’t get a good look at what he was wearing or carrying. Did this make Dean a weirdo? For staring into the front windows? But he could just blame it on the car driving towards the house! Yeah!

Jo jerked the rusty car to a rough stop and unbuckled her seatbelt. The engine stuttered to a stop and hiccupped with overuse. “Last time I checked Mary didn’t mind if I came in for a shower, right? I need to grab a quick one before they come back, I’ve got work right after this ‘n all.” His mood quickly perked up at his prank’s plan coming together. He couldn’t let it show, though, she’d become suspicious.

Dean crossed his arms and jutted his chin upward. “Whatever, I guess. Just use the new guest shampoo.” He then got out of the car real slow, hiding his evil smile into his shoulder as he went. This was perfect. She was never going to come back again! _Serves her right,_ he thought. _She should think twice before underestimating Dean Winchester._ He heard the other corroded door slam and he lulled behind her as she made her way into the house. 

By the time Dean reached the living room, the shower was running and Jo’s off tune singing could be heard echoing throughout the house. He comfortably collapsed onto the huge couch in front of their 80’’ tv. Dean grabbed the tv remote and surfed through the channels, trying to find the latest power rangers episode before Jo began squealing and ruining his tv time. 

No such luck.

It must've been a really fast shower because before he knew it, a green-haired Joanna Beth Harvelle was marching down the stairs, wrapped in a towel.

Scratch what he said earlier. There is _a lot_ of fun stuff to do home alone.

X

  
  


Castiel Novak is a lot of things. He's smart, having graduated from The University of Chicago with honors in economics and finance. He’s successful, leaving Striegel Knobloch & Co. as the most financially fortunate CPA there. He’s ambitious, having initiated the conversation that led him to meeting his late wife, Daphne Allen. He’s loyal, spending a full five years with her before her sudden death. Castiel Novak is a wondrous man, truly.

But he sure as hell isn’t strong. 

His browsing history could attest to that fact with stunning clarity. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation, Castiel ripped himself away from in front of his laptop. It wasn’t anything particularly expensive, but it was enough to.. Well, stalk little boys. One boy, specifically. Because try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about Dean Winchester.

This _wasn’t_ himself, god damnit. 

Castiel was not attracted to young boys, boys who hadn’t even touched puberty with a ten foot long pole. Could the boy even ejaculate yet? Was he too young?

He felt the pubic area of his corduroy slacks begin to tighten at the thought.

Fuck, what the hell is wrong with me?

Glaring down at the open chrome browser, he stared at the background photo of the Winchester family. Sitting back down on the woolen chair, Castiel resigned himself to creepily learning everything about Dean Winchester through Mary’s Facebook page. Her profile photo was a pink tinted ‘selfie’ of her pregnant baby bump. 

It was a sweet photo, but not what he was looking for. 

Clicking on ‘Posts’, a large collection of badly angled selfies and heavily filtered photos appeared in front of Castiel’s eyes. Also, emojis..everywhere. 

Choosing a photo of Dean at a very young age, most likely four or five, he decided this was the most progressive way to kill off his boner and little crush. Seeing the object of his sexual desires for what he truly was, a fucking child, should do the trick. That, and he could figure out how the hell Facebook worked. Setting up an account is in order as well. Castiel intends on being much more social here than he was at Pontiac, after all. 

Daphne was good at ‘making friends with the neighbors’. Not him.

He stared at the photo. In this, it was Christmas. A tall Christmas tree lit the entire room with cheer. Joy was written all over Mary’s face as she held a very baby fat covered Dean to her chest. He waited, waited for the wave of disgust to rush over him and realize that, no, this isn’t fucking okay or _legal_. 

Waited. 

And waited.

Is his watch broken? 

Five minutes had passed and all he could feel was absolute awe in reaction to Dean’s beauty. His boy, his adorable little doe was smiling big at the camera. Little teeth all pearly and white, his pretty pink cheeks glowing with excitement. Although Castiel hadn’t felt a sexual reaction to the baby photo, he couldn’t help but feel attached to it. As he did with Daphne’s baby photos. That's _his_ baby. Little Dean in his Huggies diapers and creamy tan bear hoodie.

A shockingly loud alarm blasted through the somewhat empty home office (He’d eventually gotten to the boxes) and caused Castiel to jump up, although he’d deny it until the day he died. 

It was his work alarm that disturbed his partially wet dream. Castiel wouldn’t usually work on a Sunday, nor would he work a 2 pm- 10pm shift, but he couldn’t make demands on his first day there. Especially when he could choose what days to work in his house, and out at the new accounting office. He was a bit of a recluse on a good day, but an absolute hermit according to Gabriel. 

Gabriel, his older brother, convinced Castiel to ‘escape his bad memories’ at Illinois to join the ‘slutty depths’ of Kansas. Although, to Castiel’s amusement, Kansas seemed to consist only of churches and hidden BDSM clubs.

He knows a thing or two about BDSM and he had a few enjoyments in college, but Daphne was a bit of a prude who couldn’t orgasm more than once a day. 

May her beautiful soul rest in peace, but Castiel has _needs._

After work, he’d attend a bar of some sort, pick up a no-face, no-name woman and destroy her vagina. Perhaps that would kill off his crush. 

Castiel grabbed his suit jacket and slipped it on over his black button up and navy tie. He was going to work for eight hours ignoring the desirable critter mere yards away from where he stands just now. He could have his cock floating in Dean’s saliva for hours on end, until his gag reflex is all but demolished. Bury his sizable penis (Castiel isn’t stupid, he knows hes well endowed) deep into his little mouth until the thick tip has rubbed mercilessly at Dean’s skinny unused throat. Poor sweetheart wouldn’t be able to talk for days.

A sadistic tremble made buttoning his shirt rather difficult, but Castiel pressed the butt of his palm onto his crotch. 

Tonight, he’ll work this tension out. He couldn’t be the cul de sac’s local fucking _pedophile;_ what would Daphne say?

Grabbing his sunglasses and slipping on his strap and buckle monks, he was officially ready.

Ready to both: avoid this infatuation _and_ head to work. 

As he neared the front door, he caught a glimpse of the empty baking dish Missouri had gifted him. Well, he was on the way, right? What's one more stop? Nodding to himself and briefly praising his quick and simple thinking, Castiel grabbed the dish and walked out of the house, keys in his pocket. 

His gaze landed out on the brick house to his right. “Right! Wait, no. That's Meg’s. The one beside hers, then?” Raising his eyes from her house to the plain white one beside it, showed a shirtless Balthazar grinning an odd Cheshire smile at Castiel. 

Okay, no.

Instead of walking up to each home and inquiring if any of the occupants would happen to be a sweet old psychic with the baking skills of a god, he ultimately decided on heading to the Winchester home. 

Hopefully Dean wouldn’t be home, and Mary would answer the door with directions. He couldn’t be distracted. 

The trek up the healthy green grass had felt like millenia as Castiel pictured the worst possible outcome. He was a bit of a pessimistic person, yes. Could you blame him? Optimism had gotten him nowhere! The absolute last goddamn thing he needed was for Dean to answer the door, and it’d be even worse if he were in a state of debauchery. 

Or covered in whipped cream.

Oh, it’d be Castiel’s worst nightmare and best wet dream. 

Swallowing his courage, he squared his shoulders and briskly knocked on the cherrywood door of the Winchester house. A petite woman wrapped in a wet towel answered the door and it wasn’t her inviting smile he noticed.

Not her smooth hooked nose, nor her apple cheekbones. 

It was her _green hair._

It looked to be freshly dyed, a lime shade tinted her forehead and shoulders. What the hell? Did Dean have a psychotic older sister?

“Hey, are you.. Are you new to the block? I haven’t-” she cleared her throat and batted her wet eyelashes up at him. “Haven’t seen you around here.”

Castiel wanted to reassure her that flirting really wasn’t necessary, as she was much too young for his tastes anyway. _Was she, though?_ Shut up, Castiel.

“Um,-”

  
“N-No! Sorry, that was bad. Um, would you like to get something to, to eat sometime? I know I seem like a dumb blonde-” the woman began frantically explaining

“Blonde?” asked Castiel, dumbfounded. Was this woman colorblind?

“Yes, I-” Her coffee brown eyes settled on her reflection in his sunglasses.

And all hell broke loose. 

“Is that? Your gla- Me? THATS! TH-THATS ME! DEAN! DEAN GODDAMN WINCHESTER!” absolute fury warred against embarrassment on her face and she ran from the house, into the house to its’ left. 

When will things get less confusing?

X

It worked! It worked and Jo was finally gone!! Dean tossed the tv remote down and sprung off the comfy couch.

“WOOH! WOOHOO! BYE-BYE, JOANNA! IT'S BEEN NICE!” wiggling his toes and swinging his hips, Dean was doing his happy dance! Everyone has a happy dance. It's just science.

It’d taken forever to get rid of her! She was so ..so.. Lisa said the word was..tolerant, he thinks?

Slipping off the annoying brown jacket from his suit, Dean unbuttoned his pants and began shimmying out of them, still dancing. Each time he gets rid of a babysitter, he can’t help but shake his butt a little! It's a tradition, what?

Twirling and kicking the annoying straight pants off his ankles, he only had his shirt with all the buttons and his favorite batman underwear on. He hated these shirts because they always took forever to take off! None of the babysitters even asked to help before, which was usually the sign that they weren’t good enough to watch him. 

But he never really asked for help, so..

Pa told him that the babysitters are for protecting him, but from what?? There's no monsters around here! Dean would be able to sense them and kill them all like Batman does. He knows he has secret powers that ma and pa don’t know about.

Maybe superhero guy knows? 

“Hello?” asked a really really deep voice that made Dean’s skin have what ma calls goosebumps.

It also kinda sounded familiar.

A burglar!! It had to be a burglar! Did Jo leave the door open when she ran away? She left him vulnerable. Maybe he could use his powers..but they don’t work when he tries to summon them. He grabbed an umbrella from right next to the door entrance and slowly tiptoed towards the open door. It was kinda small and had pictures of the batman logo on it (it was dean’s) but it could do some damage with his super strength!

He squeezed his eyes shut as the thin part of the umbrella hit the burglar. This might be his last day as a normal kid. Will ma and pa go to his funeral? Will he have a funeral? Who knew what was gonna happen? It felt like years passed before he cracked open one eye.

Superhero guy. Dean blinked slowly up at him. Man, he looked even bigger right here! Before, he was a few feet away and he’d looked as tall as a building, but now he looked like a giant!

He dropped the umbrella and stared up into his eyes. They’re really blue. Now that he thinks about it, Benny’s eyes are totally different. Benny’s eyes look sorta blue, a little white-ish, but this guy’s eyes look like..like the ocean and..blueberry slushie. 

Dean loves blueberry slushies, especially with cherry mixed in. 

He looked like he was looking at something scary, but Dean wasn’t scary? I mean, he _could_ be scary, like, to new babysitters, but he didn’t want superhero guy to think he was scary. He wanted to be friends so he could show Dean how to be cool.

“Hi” Dean sounded kinda shy, he couldn’t help it! This guy was so cool! He had really big hands and he looked like he could take off Dean’s really annoying shirt with the buttons. 

“Is Mary home?” he sounded like his words were being run through a strainer, really choked off. “Uhhh, no. Ma is with pa at brunch” replied Dean, he sounded like a really big adult. He stood on his tippy toes to look a little taller. “Do you have super powers? You look like a superhero.”

A small chuckle and a wide grin spread over his face, he had a really nice smile. “How’d you know? I thought.. I thought I was hiding so well. I should’ve known a superhero just like me would find out.”

Dean knew it! Dean DOES have powers! Lisa was wrong, of course she was! Everyone in class was wrong! He bounced on his feet and tugged at the tall guy’s sleeve. 

“Please please pleeease show me your powers please! Ma and pa aren’t gonna be here for like.. Uhhh.. I don’t know, but it's gonna be a long time! I don’t wanna be alone you can protect me! Be my new babysitter, pretty please with cherries on top? We can fight crime and watch power rangers together and watch gunner lawless beat up other wrestlers, and you think wrestling is real, right? It is! You’re cool like that, of course you’d think that!” He knew he was acting like a tiny baby, but he was so excited!

He’d have three best friends instead of just two! Benny and Charlie would wanna meet him too and he could show him really cool things! He wasn’t gonna be like the other babysitters, they could hang out and have so much fun!

“What's your real name? And your superhero name? What do the criminals call you? Why are you here? You should’ve come at night, then you could have sneaked to my room. We could still go! Cmere, man.” He pulled the sleeve and, of course, the super hero didn’t budge at all. He's super strong like that. He got even more excited after seeing that. 

“Please?”

“Believe me, I.. definitely want to, but I shouldn’t. I’ve got normal human work to attend. I’ve got to blend in with all the civilians and just for the record,” he stepped closer to Dean.

“-my name isn’t ‘man’.”

He seemed really serious all of a sudden, his eyes somehow.. A darker blue? Kinda like..grey-ish blue now. Dean doesn’t know colors all that well, but Garth does. He should ask him what color it is.

“My name is Castiel, but you may call me Cas.” 

Yes! Yes!! “Do you have t’ go, Cas? We could go inside and talk about our powers and have fun! I can show you my favorite things to do!”

This time, his voice was really really rough, like he ate some rocks. Is that one of his powers? “Believe me, all the fun we would have would definitely leave you tired afterwards. I’ve got to..go. Would you happen to know where Missouri’s home is?”

“Yeah, uh.. Right next to Jo’s house- that's the green haired lady that was in here. The house riiiiight there.” Dean pointed as best as he could towards Missouri and Patience’s wooden house. It's kinda old but it looks really nice because Missouri does spells and stuff to make it look nice. That, and she asks for Dean's help to sweep sometimes. 

“Good boy.” What? Good.. Good boy? His whole body got tingly and kind warm and his legs squeezed together a little. He’d never been called that. Just a bunch of weird names from ma and a nice nod from pa every once in a while but never.. Never _good boy._

Dean could be good, he could be the goodest out there! Gooder than Jo and gooder than all the other superheroes Cas has met before!

Cas nodded and turned around, walking away. This was his last chance!! Who knew when he’d see him again? What if he decided that nobody should know his secret identity and disappear into the night? “H-Hey, Mr. Cas, sir!” asked Dean, nervous as hell.

“Mm?”

“Please come to the party that my family is doing, please! I wanna see you.”

Cas looked really surprised before he nodded once again and this weird curvy thing happened to his lips that made him look like a villain. Dean _really_ liked how cool he looked. 

Dean closed the door and locked it, trying to breathe slowly. He _met_ a superhero. 

Holy smokes!!

  
  


X

After giving Missouri the container and heading to his Continental, Castiel couldn’t fucking believe what just happened. 

Since when had he developed the resistance of a monk? Temptation in the form of a greek goddess, a siren leading Castiel to certain destruction, the Northern fucking star, had approached him. Yet he goes on, completely aware of how low his morals have sunken. 

When Dean had appeared at the door, wearing nothing but a thin button down, most of the buttons undone, and tiny, almost irrelevant batman undies, he’d damn near had a stroke. Blood hung low in his southern regions at the image being displayed on repeat in his head. 

Hairless, silky thighs clinging to the small undergarment, the batman symbol displayed over Dean’s crotch area, and white knee socks had almost made Castiel come in his slacks. 

The cold leather of the car seat made him jerk to reality. This wasn’t fucking good. He was semi hard in his work pants, his cock standing at attention, begging to be forced into the dripping wet, savory warmth of Dean’s virgin hole. Of course, he was a virgin. He was a fucking child! A little boy, a little boy who practically kneeled down and seductively requested spending more time with Castiel. 

And his reaction to being praised? Fucking speechless. Castiel was _speechless._ Dean’s pretty cheeks colored a heavy shade of fuschia and his lips parted, swollen from being bitten. His small frame had cowered in, as if purposely making himself smaller, trying to please the lust hungry beast inside Castiel.

_“Please come in, sir. Please?”_

The mere fact that this was a natural instinct in Dean. To obey and submit to his will and give up everything he owns, _everything he is,_ to pleasure Castiel. A natural submissive, truly. A sultry groan reverberated through the Continental’s interior, rising from his throat. 

He couldn’t go into work like this. Not this disheveled. Forcing the key into the ignition, he pulled out of his driveway and began his commute to the firm whilst grinding his palm into the thick line of his cock. 

Although he couldn’t get much friction, it was enough to drag Castiel up a steep hill, closer to his orgasm. He kept a steady pace on the road, only accelerating and breaking when necessary. Quickly realizing that he needed more than just.. _this,_ Castiel unzipped his pants and undid the confines of his pants and boxers. The tip of his cock tapped and slapped against the base of the steering wheel, making him moan in abashed want. 

No lube, spit will have to do. 

He licked his palm and created a hollow loop with his fist, the other hand on the wheel. The seatbelt limited the thrusting movement of his hips, but as he eased his cockhead into the body warmth of his hand, it was fucking perfect.

Not nearly as perfect as Dean’s novel ass hole must feel, but, decent. 

Stroking the throbbing length of his penis and momentarily fiddling with the sensitive skin underneath the head, he felt the burning sensation underneath his skin. Suddenly, the tight buttoned up collar of his shirt was _too_ tight, too much. He needed larger breaths, more air. 

He tried to picture anything, anything other than a certain eight year old presenting his soaked, gaping asshole to Castiel. Begging, sobbing for more. More of his cock, more of his touches. A certain eight year old swaying his curvy hips. Would freckles crowd the milky, untouched skin of his ass? Would he appreciate sitting on Castiel’s face? As he licked and sucked the tangy sweat from in between his bubbled cheeks, Castiel would know that he has reached god status.

_That_ must be heaven.

Before he fully comprehended what sin he had committed, thick come spurted seemingly all over the steering wheel. 

Castiel pulled into the parking lot of the accounting offices and turned the engine off. 

Clear minded, guilt began to sink into his bones. Fuck. That's John’s kid, John’s boy. What the hell had he done? Surely, surely, everyone would know at first glance what he's done. What he is resisting. Could they judge him? Have they been on the receiving hand of such mouthwatering teasing? 

Dean was more than just a boy, he concluded, while grabbing his work suitcase and stepping out of his car.

He is a deity, a thing of beauty and hatred. One to be coveted and adored but not stared at, no one should actively practice such blasphemy. He’d never been a religious man but Castiel would worship Dean with each and every breath of air his lungs could provide.

A slow, treacherous hike to the front door of the firm gave Castiel’s resolve more than enough time to resurface and scold himself for such thoughts.

And yet, it stayed silent.

Perhaps, this is destiny? Could this be fate? He was meant to devote his every waking second to Dean Henry Winchester. Who was he, a lowly widowed man, to declare anything different?

He’ll ask Gabriel.

X

At approximately 9:37 PM, He’d met the majority of his coworkers, including Balthazar, which was an honest surprise. 

They’d talked, an actual conversation, one of his first since his blasphemous masturbation session in his Continental. 

Did he ever wipe her down?

Fuck.

Balthazar agreed on just being ‘friends’, although quite frankly, Castiel would’ve been glad with the distraction of an office romance. Anything to keep his mind off of Dean. He told zar (he insisted on the nickname, though Castiel isn’t sure how he feels about it) that he was experiencing a ‘forbidden’ crush on someone. He tried to guess, naming a huge list of both women and men before giving up with someone named “April Kelly”?

His advice was, instead of nurturing his ‘weird obsession’, as zar said it, Castiel should sleep it off.

At first he tried to ask why the hell being well awake would help with his dilemma and zar’s cat-like face had burst in laughter.

“Not like _that,_ silly boy! Find some sweet ass and _sleep it off!_ ”

Oh. He had the same conclusion Castiel had.

That must be a sign, then?

Castiel was going to ask Gabriel, truly! But his brother was busy baking and dealing with his unnecessarily troublesome fiance, Kali. Gabriel has said as much while Castiel tried to bring Dean up without mentioning his very young age.

Gabriel swore to ‘hang’ with him later and to ‘stay fresh, cassie-licious’.

Castiel isn’t sure whether to be glad or upset that Gabriel is still his exhausting self.

He grabbed his dark brown suitcase and walked out with Balthazar. Castiel rather enjoys the night. The crisp, dusk breeze desperately reminds him of Pontiac, where the air was always fresh. Smog free, if you will. Kansas was a much smaller state than Illinois, although what with nd in times like this, when the crickets could be heard from across the street and the “Will you need a wingman? Perhaps we can participate in some group activities, mm? An orgy has never hurt anyone before”

“Say that to anyone with syphilis.” chuckled Castiel, nudging zar’s arm casually. 

“Oh, don’t be so uptight, mon ami! I am clean, and you look like a priestly man, so you must be as well! Don’t let some imaginary std scare you out of your boots!” 

Priestly. Right.

Rolling his eyes, Castiel pinned Zar with a raised brow. “Hundreds of people have died from syphilis.” 

“All I hear are excuuuuses!” sung Zar, hands clasped in celebration. “Lets go, Cassie! Let us enjoy the wonders of being free, single men! We can go to a small bar I frequent, no clubs for you, not yet. That stick is too far jammed up your ass for any orgies just yet, anyway.”

“It’ll be up yours if you don’t shut the hell up. Lets go.”

“Speaking of going.. Ehm, haha, do you mind if I ride with you? I don’t enjoy using public transportation.”

“Don’t you have your own car?” asked Castiel, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“And have something for my ex lovers to key? No thank you, my friend.” said Zar, lifting his chin in the air, as if it was the most clever idea to have been hatched by a living man. 

“Right, so you just, what? Ask strangers for rides home?”

“Cassie, life is all about taking risks, my dear. Imagine how boring it would be to go home and simply eat and go to bed?”

“You mean, how _safe?_ ” grumbled Castiel, unlocking his car and sliding into the driver’s seat. Looking down at the steering wheel showed evidence of his earlier activities. He quickly yanked his blue tie off and wiped the (expensive, very expensive) leather clean. As Balthazar sat in the passenger seat, he caught a glimpse of the tie and wrinkled his nose. “Gross. I will find out who is making you jizz in your car and they _will_ be responsible for the trauma I’ve just experienced.”

“Oh, please. As if your furniture isn’t semen soaked as well.” Castiel retorted while turning his key in the ignition. 

“Cassie! I’ll have you know that Mrs. Tran at the local laundromat has given me a discount after having used all of her machines.”

“I don’t want to know why you needed all of them. Don’t-” Zar was quick to reply though.

“Note to self: do not host orgies if you’re not willing to clean each and every stain off the curtains and carpets. Ruby is quite the squirter.”

His blue eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Ruby!? You’re joking. Isn’t she with Meg? Aren’t they a thing?”

“A polyamorous thing, Cassie. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were a sheltered boy.” scoffed Zar as he crossed his legs underneath the dash. 

“How would you know any better?” asked Castiel, genuinely curious as to why the hell Zar would know _anything_ about his sexual life? Had he been that transparent?

“The way you stared at, well, I’m not sure _who_ was in the Winchester house, but you looked like you wanted to do a number of naughty things to whoever was standing at the door.”

Castiel felt his blood freeze. He clenched the wheel underneath his palms and pulled out of the parking space a little too fast. Hopefully he didn’t notice a change in Castiel’s calm demeanor. He forced himself to suck in a shallow breath and began guiding down the semi familiar Lebanon streets.

“Ah, it is a Winchester. So, who has enamored you, Cassie? John or Mary? Mary is a beautiful woman but is a tad bit superficial, if you were to ask me.”

“Oh please. As if you aren’t superficial as well.” muttered Castiel. 

“I may be, but at least I admit it! That woman- left here-” Castiel sharply turned left, onto a new street, “is in deep denial. She acts like she truly does not care, right turn.-” Annoyance began to prickle at Castiel’s nerves as he jerked the car to the right. 

“But she does. And it is putting so much pressure on their little one, Dean. You’ve met Dean, right? Most adorable little thing I’ve seen in ages. I was around when he was a little kid, don’t you know, Cassie? Very cute.”

Castiel was _not_ jealous. Palms whitening underneath the strong grip he had on the wheel, he reminded himself just how _not jealous_ he was. Nodding at Zar to continue (and hopefully end) his neverending monologuing, he diligently searched for the bar he had mentioned. 

“Right here. Slow down. To the left.” 

He pulled into the modest (kinda shitty) parking lot and found a decent space. “Oh, Don’t be a diva. Nobody is gonna steal this hunk of bull crap. Lets go, Cassie.” Zar gracefully (is that possible?) slammed the door shut and dramatically swallowed a breath of fresh air. “It smells like jizz and tears in your car, you know! You should look into a car freshner if you’re going to frequently jerk off in your car.”

Castiel was getting out of the car nervously when Zar said that, causing him to stand up straight mid-out. He hit his head on the metal overhead of his car. “Fuck!”

He rubbed the base of his skull and distinctly heard a mocking giggle. 

“You’re a real assbutt to the person who drove you here, y’know. I could leave your French ass here to hike back to the cul de sac. That’d teach you.” grumbled an injured Castiel.

“Oh? And I’d go on to tell everyone, including the bartender, of how my best buddy, Castiel Novak, jerked off in his car and licked his own semen off the steering wheel.” Zar shrugged with a nonchalance that taunted Castiel’s very being.

“I didn’t LICK-” a woman in a particularly short dress glanced their way, confusion and subtle disgust passed over her gaze. 

He significantly lowered the volume of his voice and leaned over the roof of the car. “The damn come! It was an accident. I don’t _do_ that, okay?!” he sounded as if he were trying to convince both of them.

“Right, right. I’m not getting any younger, Cassie. Lets go.” he began striding confidently towards the bar door, leaving Castiel behind.

_Why couldn’t he befriend anyone fucking normal?_

Locking his Lincoln Continental and quickly catching up to Zar, Castiel was ready for the night of his life.

X

He’ll definitely remember this night, alright. But not because it's his best.

Try his worst.

Don’t get him wrong, there are attractive people god damn everywhere. Which is quite disconcerting considering how inhospitable the atmosphere is. Both men and women with malicious intent (or just really bad breath) have gestured suggestively at Castiel but he's yet to feel the not all too familiar tingle in his lower abdomen, signaling the green sign. Perhaps it is just his instincts keeping him from getting some ‘ass’, as Gabriel has so eloquently put, but he refuses to get sexual with a stranger hiding an STD.

_Dean wouldn’t have anything. He can’t even ejaculate properly yet._

Shut up, Castiel.

The bartender, which is Meg (Their neighbor Meg, which Zar failed to mention), has been chatting him up while refilling his whiskey on the rocks. Whether or not her company is simply placating him or for her genuine enjoyment, he is glad to have it, as it makes him seem a little less awkward sitting alone.

To his utter misfortune, Castiel can hold his liquor remarkably better than any living mortal should be able to. His twenty-first birthday party being the only exception. He can almost hear Gabriel’s laughing at the very distant slums of his mind. 

“Cassie, stop making that face! It's ‘nly some tequiiiiila!”

Nope, the highly appreciated quality of drunkenness had been completely lost on Castiel. As much as he dislikes his tolerance, he often thinks of how easy it’d been to handle the cold nights after Daph’s death, he is somewhat glad to have his enduring sobriety. This thought is set into stone as he watches a staggering, drunk man walk out with a very creepy woman.

Very glad.

Thumb swiping through the thick condensation of his glass and head bent down towards the slippery wet bar underneath his elbows, Castiel would have missed the sultry voice if it weren’t for his keen hearing.

“So, you’re..here alone?” asked the feminine voice. Lifting his head and ignoring the slight buzz flowing through his veins, he squinted in confusion. A thin, but not _too_ thin ginger stood beside Castiel, leaning on the red barstool beside him. His eyes slid down her frame like molasses. A dress that hugs her thighs as if they’re water and it's a very hot day, pointy shoulders sticking out of her faded leather jacket. 

Eyes like smoky, green fire. Not the right shade of green, not the right tint, but it was decent. Not blonde, no, that’d be too perfect, but red. Red, tawny hair framed her long face. No freckles, no pink lips. Subtle frustration brewed at the differences, too many, not enough, he wasn’t fucking sure. A syrupy sweet smile replaced the inquiring purse of her lips as she leaned closer to him, her soft breasts pressing into his right arm. 

“I know what a god fearing (what the fuck?) man like yourself needs. I know _exactly_ what you want.” blood red lipstick stained his earlobe, her whisper echoing inside his head.

He doesn’t need this. What he needs, Castiel’s mind supplies unhelpfully, is to bury my twisting tongue inside of an eight year old’s ass hole. Need to devour and savor his young virginity. Feed on his stolen innocence like milked honey. Castiel will relish and cherish the devilish enjoyment of suckling on Dean’s sweet acidity. Sharp like citrus but calming, like morning drizzle. The forbidden fruit, truly ripe for his taking. His craving tears at his very being, needle-like fingertips clawing at his resistance. Oh, how he wants. How he _yearns._

It's too much. Too overwhelming. Castiel stands up abruptly and throws caution to the fucking wind. 

“Let's get out of here. Got a house near here.” he glances around, trying to meet Zar’s eyes before he makes his unceremonious exit.

A boisterous laugh from the other side of the bar dragged Castiel’s eyes to Zar. Laughing blue eyes with lined crow feet met his, withholding a question as to why he sought him out. Light blue eyes slid to the red head beside him and he laughed even louder. Eyes bulging and nearly doubling over onto his companion, Balthazar was simply hysterical. A harsh coughing fit interrupted his chuckling, but Zar ultimately affirmed the question in Castiel’s eyes. 

_Yes, you may go, friend! Enjoy her._

Castiel wasn’t completely understanding what the entire ‘joke’ was? The attractive woman at his right was becoming impatient, rubbing his hips and pressing soft kisses against his neck. 

Fuck it, he’ll figure it out tomorrow.

Shuffling out of the loud bar with the energetic woman in his arms, Castiel unlocked his Continental and hurriedly sat in the driver's seat. The young red head sat in the passenger’s and reached over, performing some type of manual magic that made him groan loud. 

Seatbelt be damned, he jerkingly pulled out of the space and began speeding home. What would truly be detrimental to his grand plan involving his penis would be if a police officer were to pull him over. 

Her palm gyrated onto the sizely bulge tenting his work slacks. “Such a large male reproductive part you’ve got. I’ve heard the larger the penis, the greater the commitment to christianity.” 

Weird fucking dirty talk but alright.

Castiel messily slid into his bungalow’s driveway, the usual stark yellow dimmed to a brownish mustard in the dark. The Kansas night breeze stood stale in his lungs as he rushed the woman to the front porch. Unlocking the door and roughly pulling her body in was almost too simple of a task.

An eager participant in the grinding motion of their hips, she licked up his jugular and murmured hotly, “Bed. Man and woman were meant to do it in comfort. It's natural.”

His erection flagged at her constant, bible yapping. This would be much more arousing if she were to.. If she were to, 

_Talk about superheroes while being split on our cock?_

No. If she were to shut the hell up. Something Castiel should do too. 

Securing a tight hold onto her wiry wrist, he led her to the spacious bedroom and tugged the beige curtains open. They tore at each others’ clothing, reverting back to primal desires bubbling in the atmosphere between them. The bright moon light spilled over her body as she lay exposed on his bed, the blue-gray of his silken sheets quite offsetting on her tanned skin. He shook his head of rational thought and sunk his mind into the dark depths of what really turns him on. 

Soft, creamy thighs spread open obscenely wide. Knees lifted high, body folded dramatically in half. Only a child could naturally be that flexible. Rosy lips parted in overwhelming exertion. 

A quiet flame burned persistently at Castiel’s core. Dean. His delicate four leaf clover. His precious princess. The striking woman was gone, and there laid one Dean Winchester, writhing in his sheets, the soft gray hue complimenting his freckled complexion. Erection successfully restored, he crawled over the woman, his daydream (night dream?) broken. 

Now to focus on what he's here for. To ignore the neighbor’s kid. 

Forcing two fingers into her damp vagina, his knuckles sank into the loose heat. Loose. Not tight, not Dean. Quick prep, fast. Her shrill moans aggravated Castiel’s libido, he wanted to hear something quieter, gentle. Messy and fast, her bodily juices running down the expanse of his wrist. 

“Enn..Enough. Make love to me. No condom, as all mankind was made to do.” the redhead moaned loudly.

“Y..You’re on the pill?” he asked, weary.

“Satanic.. Pill is satanic.” 

Whatever. He tuned out her religious ramblings and slipped on a custom condom he'd made because his penis size is, unfortunately, not sold in retail. Her pissed off musings at the sight of the condom were cut off as he thrusted inside of her. 

Back arched and neck thrown back, the woman wrapped one leg around his hips, encouraging more. “Ohhh.. C-Cole would never..mnnh, please. Lord almighty.”

Quickly, Castiel establishes a pattern, thrusting his angled hips feral. Deafening groans filter through the resounding ringing of slapping skin. Although Castiel would rather feel Dean’s vice-like grip, he’s grown accustomed to the wet folds of her vagina and is rapidly approaching his climax. 

“Oh..oh, I’m not one for infidelity, I swear to you, but I.. you may be the exception, oh sweet Jesus!” her lips uselessly flapped, like that of a fish, as she took his length effortlessly. 

The bed creaked and thudded against the wall as the woman gasped, in a stupor. His torso dripping in sweat and hips flying back and forth, Castiel felt it. Sneaking and mounting with great anticipation. A cobra observing its prey. 

The redhead underneath him screamed in pleasurable agony, her body shaking vigorously as her orgasm overtook her. Jerking his hips twice more, he came into the condom. 

Castiel usually feels pretty exhausted after a decent round of sex and this certainly isn’t an exception. Pulling out and tying the end of the condom, his mind began to wonder. He hopes this severs the budding attraction he felt towards the young fawn across the way. His gaze lifted from the discarded condom to the Winchesters’ window, across from his. 

Alit by a soft blue night light, the window had sky blue curtains pulled back and the transparent window cracked open. It was really quite interesting, how his bedroom window could look directly into another room. What were the chances of that? As the woman got comfortable in his bed, Castiel saddled near the window and leaned close.

He watched curiously as two emerald green eyes staring at Castiel dunked away from the window. 

  
  


Could that have been..?

  
  


Was Dean watching him?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> https://thekingsdastard.tumblr.com/post/644580558600650752/for-my-ao3-fic-sigh  
> the cul de sac in question


End file.
